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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308309">Familiar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandakib/pseuds/amandakib'>amandakib</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Familiar Series — Part 1/4 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:20:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandakib/pseuds/amandakib</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker is tired of being the good guy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Familiar Series — Part 1/4 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Familiar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tucker blinked a few times in disbelief. Did Vic really just— God, what was it with everyone on his team? Constantly throwing in the towel. Everyone just had to be that selfless hero these days, huh? </p><p>“Does someone wanna explain what the fuck just happened?” Grif asked. </p><p>“We uhh— We won!” He looked back Grif, laughing in what he assumed was relief. He exhaled out of his nose and cocked his head to the side, “I think!”</p><p>Tucker turned, seeing Temple trying to make his escape. Pft, yeah. Okay. Likely story. He wasn’t gonna allow that to happen. He powered up his sword, the familiar fresh smell and heat greeted him as usual, ready as ever. He approached Temple slowly from behind. That poor sap wouldn’t know what hit him until it was too late. </p><p>“This is for Wash, you piece of shit.” He said, drawing his weapon back. </p><p>“Tucker, stop.” Carolina ordered, right before he could bring his sword down. He looked over to her in surprise. He couldn’t see her face, but he could tell from her tone alone that she was not happy for whatever reason. His eyes darted between his target and his friend a few times, before he grumbled and lowered the weapon. </p><p>“Oh, come on! Now you show up?” Tucker said, borderline whining. </p><p>“Don’t kill him.” She continued, and Tucker’s jaw dropped. </p><p>“I think she makes a great point, Tucker!” Temple adds nervously and it takes every ounce of Tucker’s being not to turn around and sock him right in the mouth. Not yet. He takes a deep breath and turns to Carolina, unable to believe the shit she was spewing. </p><p>“But he deserves it more than anyone!” He claimed defensively, sword still crackling with power. “He’s a killer!” </p><p>“And so are we!” Carolina chastised. “But we’re a different sort, Tucker.” </p><p>Tucker rolled his eyes and turned away, shaking his head. She continued on with her unnecessary lecture, which he promptly tuned out. The sound of his heartbeat in his ears left no room for the words she was saying. Was she for real? Temple was an awful person! He, of all people, deserved to die! After everything he had done to him, Wash, his friends— everyone, was Tucker just supposed to ignore it? Act like it didn’t bother him just like everything else? She should know, more than anyone on their team, that bottling up your feelings got you nothing in the end. And you know what? In that moment, Tucker would never admit it— he would be too stubborn to do so— he felt betrayed. Genuinely and wholeheartedly betrayed. Who was Carolina, an ex freelancer, to pick when and who they get to kill? God, talk about acting proud. They killed Felix, didn’t they? Killed so many other bad guys, so what was one more?</p><p>“Yeah, Tucker!” Temple’s voice cut into his mind. “If you kill me, you’ll just perpetuate this never-ending cycle of revenge and retaliation.” He paused. Tucker could hear the smile from underneath his helmet, “My friends will avenge me!”</p><p>“What friends?” Tucker asked, approaching Temple with large strides. </p><p>Temple put his hands up in defense, taking a few cautious steps back. “I— Uh—” Anything he was going to try and say didn’t matter. It was cut off with a firm knock in the face. Tucker disabled his sword just moments before it came into contact with Temple’s head— a warning, if you will. Still, the force behind it paired with the metal of the handle managed to get a nice crack in the center of his visor. Temple was sent backwards, falling to the floor with a loud thud. </p><p>“Dickwad.” Tucker spat before turning his heel to walk away. He started walking toward Carolina, who he knew was looking at him with a sense of pride right now. God, whatever. She got her way. ‘As usual’, He thought to himself. </p><p>“Well, look who’s talking!” Temple pipes up shortly after. “You guys think you’re so fucking great! Galaxy’s greatest soldiers my ass. I mean, who are you kidding? Maybe if you all weren’t so stupid, your beloved leader would still be here.”</p><p>Tucker froze in his tracks. The sound of his heartbeat was returning to his ears. Loudly. </p><p>“Hey, dude lay off!” Simmons said from the sidelines. </p><p>“Yeah, what’s your fucking problem?” Grif joined in. </p><p>“Boys.” Carolina interjected sharply. She nodded toward Temple, “Ignore him. He doesn’t know anything.”</p><p>“Oh, trust me, I know more than you think.” Temple said scornfully. </p><p>“That’s a load of shit.” Tucker replied instantaneously, voice low in his throat. “Church sacrificed himself for us.”</p><p>“Did you even listen to the recording?” He prodded, voice taking up a hint of amusement. </p><p>Yeah, of course he did. Wasn’t like he had much of a choice anyways. They were forced to listen to that shit. No escaping it. </p><p>They were set up. Played. Scammed. God, how could he have been so stupid?  The second they heard that message, he and Caboose bolted. Tucker, who was supposed to be a leader and sensible, fell right into the trap. He didn’t talk to Carolina or Wash about it beforehand, he didn’t listen to them— fuck! He did exactly what they said he shouldn’t. He should’ve known better. Things weren’t the same as they were a few years ago. Tucker knew where he stood in his new role. He was a leader. The new voice of reason. Of action. It was Tucker who got to pick and choose their battles. </p><p>Only question was: Would a battle between him and Temple be what’s best for his team?</p><p>“Come on, Tucker. Who are you fooling?” </p><p>Temple had hurt his team. Bad. Surely he couldn’t just let that slide. Not after what he did to Caboose back in the cells. He knew what he was doing showing the rest of that message. Tucker had told him to stop, but he didn’t. The amount of sheer joy Temple got out of that grand show he put on was sickening. He degraded, taunted, and practically mocked Caboose back there, shattering him and leaving Tucker to desperately try and pick up the millions of pieces. The way he hung his head as Tucker carefully tried to explain everything— it made him feel like a failure. He could practically see the gears shifting inside Caboose’s head, trying wretchedly to understand why his “best friend” wasn’t coming back this time. When those gears sputtered and started to slow, Tucker didn’t need to take off the former rookie’s helmet. He knew what hid underneath. Caboose, who was confused, hurting, and most importantly, had been let down. Though he might’ve not grasped the complexity of death in the moment, he knew one thing for sure: Church was gone for good. And there was absolutely nothing Tucker could do or say in that moment to comfort him. No matter how hard he would try, he knew he’d come up short. That seemed to be a common thread these days. </p><p>“We all know that selfish bastard would have rather died and saved himself from having to spend one more painstaking, torturous day with you idiots.” </p><p>That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Church died so he could be here. Church died for all of them. It wasn’t he had admitted in the message he left, the message Tucker listens to at least once a week in secret, that he didn’t even know if it was going to work. He just knew he had to try. If only he could know it was successful. He didn’t die in vain. He did it. He saved them— he gave his life for them for Christ’s sake! Was Tucker just supposed to stand her and take it? Take all the crap and blatant lies Temple was throwing at him? It wasn’t like he could do any better. Temple was just a copy. A fake. A wannabe. He could study mannerism after mannerism, word after word, and trait after trait but he would never come close to being anything like Church. He didn’t care if Carolina was adamant about them being held to a higher standard— Tucker was still fucking human. And you know what? So many other humans, Temple especially, had brought a ridiculous amount of pain into his life. And Tucker was getting sick of being the bigger person. Every fucking time. Hell, if Church were still here, he’d probably be on his side. Temple deserved to die. It was a matter of fact, not opinion. Tucker couldn’t think of a single person who would genuinely miss Temple if he were to kill him off. Afterall, no one mourns the wicked. </p><p>His jaw clenched and hands in fists. He tried to take a few deep breaths. </p><p>“Aw, what’s the matter, buddy? Cat, or should I say, Church got your tongue?” Temple gloated. “That would explain why you’re so bold tonight. Don’t you think?”</p><p>Okay, well that last thing didn’t even make much sense (of course it didn’t; fucking theatre kids), but it still managed to make Tucker that much angrier. </p><p>Temple was one to talk about being bold. </p><p>Afterall, if it weren’t for him, Wash would still be standing here! But no. Because of him, yet again, another leader in his life was in critical condition. Not to mention Wash had left with Locus. Locus! An enemy! Well, maybe not an enemy anymore? Apparently he was “repenting for his sins” and Tucker was just supposed to trust that. Which, in all honesty, was no easy feat. Either way, Temple was the reason Wash was being whisked away to a hospital. Tucker felt his stomach turn sour. The guy was frozen for days. Days. And he couldn’t do anything about it. Not that he knew or anything, and even if he did, he and the rest of his team had only just escaped those cells. Wash and Carolina. Basically left alone to rot. To die. And in his eyes? They were the least to deserve it. </p><p>Enough was enough. </p><p>Tucker ripped off his helmet and tossed it to the side, sending it crashing into some hardware. He could tell by the way Simmons flinched it made some kind of noise, but the sound of his heart in his head was too loud to hear anything. The only thing he was seemingly able to do was feel. And he felt a lot in that moment. He could feel the heat of his sword powering back up, his boots slamming against the floor, his blood pumping through every single vein, big or small, the feeling of his arm reeling back and finally—</p><p>The pause right after his arm had followed suit. Right after he finally took a breath of air, labored and shaky. Right after the smell of burning metal, plasma, and flesh filled his nose. Tucker didn’t even flinch at the blatant assault of the stench. He ripped his arm back, angling upwards ever so slightly. Temple stammered back, hands shooting straight for his abdomen. Was he screaming? Was anyone? Tucker couldn’t hear. Nor did he want to. A part of him knew, deep down, that if he heard the blood curdling screams of his loved ones as they realized what he’d just done? He would stop. </p><p>“Stop it.” He had said just hours prior. Firm and warning. </p><p>Temple looked at him. A hint of joy colored his next words, making Tucker stiffen. </p><p>“But I don’t want to.” </p><p>Yeah. Tucker didn’t want to either. Not anymore. </p><p>He brought his sword down again, surprisingly easy. Unlike a regular knife, the sword always made a clean cut. He didn’t even have to yank it out, it was like cutting through butter. As a bonus, it also cauterized the wounds— making it near impossible for this bastard to die of blood loss. Good. He would feel every last moment. Tucker swiped the hot blade across Temple’s chest, watching the metal of his armor. The heat coming from the scene below him was the equivalent to standing over a fire. His face was burning, a few droplets of smoking hot blood fell onto his cheek. He ignored it. He shook the sweat from his brow and snuck in a quick stab. Metal burned, blood and skin sizzled, as he slashed again and again. His breathing was animalistic, chest rising and falling with every pant. </p><p>Tucker was met with an incredible blow to the shoulders, forcing him backwards. Armorized hands and arms frantically pushed at his arms and torso, making him nearly lose balance. As he tried to steady himself, someone had released the sword from his hand, causing it to skid across the floor with a clatter. Tucker instantly tried to fight back, assuming Temple’s posse had decided to bum-rush him. He turned his head to seek help from his team, but found no one. Frantically, he returned his focus back to the people fighting against him. They disarmed him. He didn’t have his sword. He couldn’t go down like this. He tried to wiggle free, making rash and quick movements. He threw a punch, but it was caught by a hand covered in bright red armor. </p><p>“Hold your fire, son!” Someone ordered, the first thing Tucker heard when the sound of his heart started to subside. It was Sarge. Someone he knew. Something familiar. He took minimal comfort in the sentiment. The next thing he heard wasn’t nearly as calming. The sound of shrill screams nearly made him jump out of his skin. </p><p>“Stop recording.” Dylan says to Jax before rushing to the body, right alongside Carolina. Grif moved out of their way. He looked back at Caboose, standing far away from the scene, shifting uncomfortably, and went over to check on him. </p><p>It had all happened so fast. The smell hadn’t truly hit them until they had come within a yard of Temple. The refreshing and clean scent Tucker’s sword always gave off was no match for the smell of melted metal, skin, and blood. Dylan let out a strangled noise of sorts when it hit her, turning away and trying her best to keep her composure. Temple’s screams continued, loud and gut wrenching. Ultimately, that was the breaking point for Dylan. She mumbled an apology and bolted back to the sidelines where Jax stood, frozen. Carolina didn’t blame her. She certainly wasn’t used to this stuff. On the other hand, Carolina was. </p><p>Temple’s screams quieted down into cries as he tried to catch his breath, seemingly exhausted. She kicked away the handle of Tucker's sword, having somehow landed itself next to the body. She crouched down and hastily worked to remove Temple’s helmet. Once off, she threw it to the side and stuck her fingers to the side of his neck. His skin was cold, clammy, and paling. No good. She found his heartbeat rather quickly, but it didn’t take long to notice how painfully slow the rhythm was becoming. </p><p>“Shit.” Carolina muttered under her breath. She cleared her throat, keeping her next words level and clear, “Temple. Can you hear me?”</p><p>Temple’s teary eyes opened, obviously suppressing a wince. Still, he managed to narrow them into thin slits, glaring daggers at the ex freelancer. </p><p>He scoffed, “And you say you’re ‘a different sort’.” </p><p>Carolina tensed at that. She was glad her helmet kept her expression hidden. She held her tongue and resisted saying a single word, choosing to watch the life drain from Temple’s eyes in silence. His body stilled, going limp within seconds. The only exception being his fingers, twitching every now and again. </p><p>“Told you I’d give Caboose a real world example.” Tucker said breathlessly. </p><p>It wasn’t a pretty sight. Some of the wounds were deep while others just hit the surface. Bones stuck out, mangled, and somehow, seemingly melted from the heat of the sword. The smoke from the metal was thick and black. Although mostly cauterized, blood still seeped its way through small cracks and gaps. The blood that spilled onto the floor was literally boiling, bubbling over and out of the almost unrecognizable body. </p><p>Almost unrecognizable. </p><p>Tucker took a breath, staring at the body that was several yards ahead of him, a messy heap on the floor. Cotton candy blue armor was melting, scuffed, sliced, and coated in blood. Caked in it. </p><p>A chill ran down his spine. </p><p>Cotton candy blue armor. </p><p>Tucker’s breathing hitched suddenly. Without warning, he reached out for Simmons, grabbing at his shoulder. “You okay, man?” He asked worriedly. </p><p>Tucker shook his head, biting back the bile that threatened to come up. Sarge was asking what was wrong but he couldn’t get the words out. Not one. Tucker felt like he was drowning. The rescue raft, Sarge and Simmons, telling them what was wrong, it was right there yet he couldn’t reach out and grab it. He struggled to catch a breath, chest rising and falling quicker and shakier than before. Sarge was saying something, tugging on his armor to try and break through. Tucker felt alone. Here he was, surrounded by people who loved him, yet it didn’t seem to matter. </p><p>His eyes landed on the body again. Blood boiling, smoking hot. Metal curled back, caked in soot and blood. Dismembered body parts and smoke and just a big mess. Smoke and steam coming off— the smell. </p><p>Most noticeably, though, the part that was vaguely recognizable: The armor. Or, what was left of it, for that matter. Cotton candy blue. Just like someone he once called a leader. A friend. And now? A hero. </p><p>There was something very unsettling about seeing what looked to be Church’s armor caked in blood, soot, and burning away to ash. </p><p>Tucker took in a few strained breaths before they left his lungs in with a shrill and deafening sound. Simmons faltered momentarily, cursing under his breath as he tried to steady the younger soldier. He lunged forwards, trying his best to wrench himself out of Sarge and Simmons’ grasp. The sound of his heart in his head came back, slowly but surely. It was taking over again. No, no, no, no. What had he just done? People were shouting at him now, but he couldn’t make out the words. His eyes stayed fixated ahead on the limp body— one that looked an awful lot like his dead leader’s. </p><p>His knees buckled. Sarge and Simmons were quick to step in and ease him to the ground. They were talking to him, he knew that, but it was all too much. On the floor he sat, defeated and choking on dry sobs— hardly any tears fell from his eyes. That didn’t mean he was any less sad, though. Tucker was distraught. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. How was he still standing?</p><p>He could remember when they were stationed at Blood Gultch. Back then, their biggest threat was Church’s scary girlfriend coming over to visit. Luckily she was always on their side. Back then, he could be so carefree! He was vulgar, goofy, twenty fucking years old, with hardly any cares in the world. Church usually handled laundry, most of the cooking, and most of— well? Everything. He trained when he felt like it, fucked with the reds every now and again, messed with Caboose daily, and so much more. All good fun without any real problems or worries. Hell, that’s where his son was born! His son! An alien! He gave birth to him there. And still, his time on Blood Gultch was basically a glorified vacation compared to now. Compared to what happened after they left that place. </p><p>Tucker would’ve stayed there if he’d known. He would’ve made Church and Caboose and everyone just stayed put. He had lost so much. Church sacrificed himself, came back and then left again out of the blue without any warning. Felix had come into their lives and seemed so promising. A genuine guy. Asshole with a heart of gold type. Just like Church. But he wasn’t. To even associate the dude with Church was an insult. And then he came back. Church, appearing and acting like nothing had happened. As if Caboose wasn’t neck deep in a depressive episode ever since he had left. As if Tucker didn’t have to learn leadership skills and how to provide for his team. And even then— it obviously wasn’t enough. It was all for nothing. Church died powering his suit and just had to be a self sacrificing asshole once again. But he had come back before, right? That’s what had made it all so convincing. Well, at least that’s what Tucker had told himself to suppress the ever growing self hatred he had. He believed he could get Church back because he wanted to. Not because it was truly plausible. He knows that. Damn, maybe Temple was right. Maybe he really was an idiot. He led them here, didn’t he? If he hadn’t fallen into this trap, maybe Wash would still be standing beside him today. God, he hoped he was gonna make it out of this alive. This was all his fault. Why was it always them? Always him?</p><p>Tucker felt a pair of arms tug him up by the shoulders, almost completely effortless. He didn’t even try to fight it, he just let whoever it was do as they pleased. He got turned around. It was Caboose. Of course it was. No one else could just pick someone up so effortlessly when they’re decked out in armor. Tucker coughed, looking at him, almost guilty. His friend who had been through so much with him and had just witnessed him murder someone in cold blood. </p><p>“Caboose, I’m sorry.” He managed to say, throat a bit horse from the brutal assault the scream had on his vocal chords. “You...really shouldn’t have seen that.”</p><p>“It’s okay.”</p><p>It wasn’t, but Tucker wasn’t gonna pick a fight. Not now. He looked over his shoulder to take another look at Temple’s body. More importantly, that stupid mother fucking cotton candy blue armor. You’d never catch Tucker in a candy aisle again. Or a fair, for that matter. Not after tonight. </p><p>“Yeah,” Caboose mumbled, uncharacteristically serious and died down. Tucker turned his attention back to him, brows furrowed. “I miss him too.”</p><p>Tucker felt his heart sink. </p><p>Of course Caboose was the only one there who made the connection. Sarge and Simmons probably figured that reaction was just the aftermath of killing someone. Privately, Tucker didn’t want to admit that wasn’t the case at all. Shameful. Disgusting, wasn’t it? Here he was, minutes after murdering someone, and yet that wasn’t the reasoning behind his tears. It was somehow, so much simpler than that. With the armor on, Temple looked a hell of a lot like Church. That alone was horrifying, traumatic, and overall just plain awful. </p><p>He bit his lip until he tasted metal. Tears welled in his eyes, ones that he frantically tried to brush away. He tried to stay fixated on his boots, but his vision was blurry. He forced the tears out of his vision by blinking furiously, sniffing and wiping at his nose.</p><p>“I miss him too.” Caboose repeats, and for a split second his voice seems to break. “I miss him..I miss him a lot.” </p><p>Caboose pulled off his helmet, revealing a mop of curly hair that was tousled and had gone a few days without a good washing. Tucker finally saw his eyes. Wet. Tear stains were on his tanned cheeks. The brief look of anguish that greeted him was something Tucker would never forget, but it was quickly replaced by a resolve that was definitely more familiar.</p><p>Without a word, Caboose crossed the distance between them and before Tucker even knew what was happening, Caboose’s hands were on him and he was being gently turned away from the limp body. When had he turned around to look back at it? For how long? Everything seemed to move in slow motion and he felt like his brain was a step behind. Before he knew it, Caboose had him wrapped securely in a hug. </p><p>Without a beat of hesitation, Tucker scrunched his eyes shut and buried his face in his friend’s chest. It was a bit uncomfortable and cold with the armor, but he couldn’t care less. He brought his own arms around Caboose and clutched the back of his suit in a desperate grip.</p><p>“We’re gonna be okay.” Caboose assured him and apparently those were the magic words to make him break down again. As if on command, Tucker wept into Caboose’s chest, holding onto him like a lifeline. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” Tucker had managed to get out at some point between sobs. Caboose held him tighter, behavior Tucker never would’ve imagined from him. Though, now that he was in this position, he was surprised something like this hadn’t happened sooner. In all the years he had known Caboose, sure, they had hugged, but never like this. Never after someone had just been murdered and the scent of burning flesh was still fresh in the air. </p><p>“It’s gonna be okay.” Caboose reminded him, “We’re gonna be okay.” And he just let Tucker cry against him, making no move to dislodge him at any point. He rested his head on top of Tucker’s, and stayed put. Every now and again he adjusts their stances. Everyone else in the room gave them their mock sense of privacy. Turning away, pretending to strike idle conversation, and giving them as much time as they needed. For once, Sarge wasn’t ordering them to wrap it up, and Carolina wasn’t telling them to continue on the ship ride home. There was nothing. Almost complete silence with the exception of Tucker’s hitched breaths and Caboose’s mumbling. Unsettling or bittersweet? You take your pick. </p><p>“Don’t worry, Tucker. As long as we stick together, I think everything will be just fine.” He eventually adds, and Tucker took a deep breath in through his nose. Even if he wasn’t ready to let go of Caboose yet, Tucker knew that when he was, they would board that ship together. Just like every time before. </p><p>And that was the most familiar and comforting thing Tucker would ever want.</p>
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